Stop 11: Eastern Sierra

I had no real intentions of climbing Mt. Shasta as I continued my way back north, but that changed in an instant after I passed Lassen forest and saw it for the first time. I immediately checked the regional forecast and started looking up trip reports - and both looked promising, albeit added pressure to get it done sooner than later as the weak snow fall this year made for a more risky summit attempt with each day that passed.

After letting it simmer in my mind for a night I decided that I would go to the trailhead and suss it out. I showed up around noon and hung out at the base, making sure to talk with the returning climbers and mountain guides. All of them suggested an early start and it sounded like the success rate was moderate at ~30% with high winds (30-50mph; gusts up to 70mph) turning around a few parties. Most guides I spoke to suggested that climbers were leaving the high base camp, where many spend 1-2 nights acclimatizing, around 2am and expected to be back at their camps around noon or so.

With that info, and being a solo climber, I thought that a 12:30am start from the car should suffice for a car-to-car attempt. They said it would take a couple of hours to get to the base camp alone and I didn't particularly want to be at the spearhead of the groups attempting a summit. So I packed my gear and laid in bed for the preceding hours with my watch alarm halting my sleepless rest. I checked my phone for an updated weather forecast and had to refresh the page when I saw the revised upward estimates of 100 mph wind gusts and wind chill values of -13F/-25C at the summit. Yikes! 'Well there goes a summit' I thought to myself. But I had done enough prep that I thought a hike up as far as I wanted to go was worth it nonetheless.

So with that, and a chug of my lukewarm coffee, I was off. Step-by-step I continued my way to the base camp where I arrived a little ahead of schedule at just about 2am. I unwrapped my breakfast burrito I had prepped and hung around to take a few photos of the spectacular moonrise while also lingering to see if any groups were heading up. After quite some time I finally saw a group of three starting up so I caught up with them and chatted as we made our way up. Although they were super friendly and offered to adopt me, it seemed their pace was going to be a little on the slower side so I decided I would continue onwards to a distant solo light that I had somehow missed and was a fair bit ahead. I trucked my way up to the light and began chatting with the person - they too had gotten a start from the car, but well before me at 8pm and also offered to tag-team it with the disclaimer that they were not sure if they would make the summit. I hiked a bit with them until I decided I would continue on my way until the the first major lookout point and wait up there to either turn around or another group to join.

Cresting the hill I was treated to a stunning alpine sunrise with deep oranges saturating the fast-moving clouds below. The next part looked a little more consequential so I hid behind a rock that somewhat sheltered me from the biting wind that was beginning to pickup, hoping a party would catch up and we could continue on together. But after 30 minutes of watching my water bottle freeze and no promise that the group I spotted below was going to get there anytime soon I decided I would again continue unless there was a reason to turn around. I made my way up the aptly named 'Misery Hill' to the false summit only to be greeted by roaring winds that twice nearly knocked me over. I could see the summit up ahead, though, and all that was required was a passing of a flat field and a jaunt up some rock. It was here that I remembered my friend's sarcastic advice when I asked him for any tips on Shasta - 'Keep on keeping on, until you get to the top!'.

Zipping up my outer shell I decided the best tactic would be to simply bull-rush the last push and keep my ice ax handy for the spontaneous gusts. With that, I was once again head-down slogging my way up this mountain when I immediately felt this urge to vomit. It wasn't the dehydration or altitude, although I doubt they helped, but instead this overwhelming smell of rotten-eggs coming from the Sulphur release just below the last 100 feet of rock. At this point I was pretty over being blasted with bitter winds and now that I gagged every time I breathed I knew that I would have to make a quick summit tag and not enjoy my second burrito and whiskey that I saved for the occasion. I climbed the scree and rock field below and sat on top of a rock that seemed to me like the summit, snapping a few photos for posterity. Looking over to the left I spotted another rock 50ft away that could well have been just as high so I decided a quick jaunt over for peace-of-mind was worth it. It was a few minutes past 8am when I started making my way back down, passing three groups on the way that were going for the summit and being blessed by a second moon sighting when turning a corner of the glacier to find someone making use of their wag-bag. Arriving back at my van just before noon I was once again so thankful for having a full mattress that I could clonk out on after a long, but rewarding morning.